


life, hope, and other fragile mysteries of the galaxy

by hoorayy



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Animal Death, Blood and Injury, Character Study, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Temporary Character Death, death in general is a Concept in this fic, in a flashback
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:40:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29525166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoorayy/pseuds/hoorayy
Summary: The first thing Pidge noticed was the loud ringing in her ears.It buzzed, screamed its way into her consciousness, an unending, shrill sound that told her something was wrong, wrong,wrong.——Pidge takes a hit. Matt takes a bigger one. And Death is no stranger to Pidge.
Relationships: Matt Holt & Pidge | Katie Holt, Matt Holt/Shiro, Pidge | Katie Holt & Shiro, Sam Holt & Pidge | Katie Holt
Comments: 6
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

> _ You taught me the courage of stars _
> 
> _ Before you left; _
> 
> _ How life carries on endlessly— _
> 
> _ Even after death; _

* * *

  
The first thing Pidge noticed was the loud ringing in her ears.

It buzzed, screamed its way into her consciousness, an unending, shrill sound that told her something was wrong, wrong, _wrong_. She gritted her teeth, raised her hand to cover her right ear. The one that wasn’t already covered, pressed against a hard, metal something.

Metal under her ear. Under her head. It was hot, almost unbearably so, which was the second thing Pidge noticed. Her eyes shot open. Immediately, she felt dizzy. Everything around her spun so harshly that she couldn’t get her bearings and had no idea where she was. Her memories were murky and vague. She’d been… on a mission? With the rest of her team… where were they? Where was she? Maybe they had—

Oh. Oh, _oh god—_

The third thing she noticed, all at once, was pain.

It was in her leg. Stabbing, throbbing, searing, and she had no idea what it was. She screamed, nearly drowning out the ringing in her ears, squeezed her eyes shut again. Tears ran between her eyelashes, and still the pain. She had no idea—she couldn’t see what was going on—

Her chest was tight and she couldn’t breathe. She gasped, sobbed, struggling for air and for clarity. She couldn’t panic. She was alone and there was something wrong with her leg, and nobody else was there to take care of it but her.

So she guided herself through the pain.

She forced herself to breathe, slowly, shakily, forced down the pain. Her leg still hurt worse than anything she had ever felt before, but she focused on breathing instead. She could do this. It would be okay.

Something pricked at the edge of her senses, a buzzing almost hidden by the sound in her ears. After several agonizingly long deep breaths, Pidge opened her eyes. The world spun around her, so she closed her eyes again, trying to listen. Past the ringing was the sound, coming from somewhere behind her. A sound like… static fuzz?

Just as that clicked, the fuzz came into focus, and she heard her name.

“Pidge! Can…”

There was too much static to make out the rest, or even tell who was speaking, but there was someone there. She still couldn’t remember what had happened, who had gone on this mission with her. But now she had hope of finding out. Pidge took one more breath, gritted her teeth, and sat up.

She hissed through her teeth, sharp pains running up and down her leg. Her vision was still dizzy, and she felt light-headed now that she was sitting up.

_Breathe. Just keep breathing._

Gradually, the room stopped whirling around her. She caught her breath, and then opened her eyes.

Her leg was coated in blood.

The armor was cracked and destroyed. Her knee was twisted, the lower half of her leg facing a direction it physically shouldn’t be able to, trapped under a huge chunk of rubble twice Pidge’s size and looking four times as heavy. Blood puddled on the floor under her leg, spreading long tendrils of crimson through cracks in the metal.

Pidge’s breath sounded harsh in her ears. She heard herself hyperventilate, dimly aware that she needed to focus on breathing again, dimly aware that she couldn’t feel the pain in her leg anymore, or at least not as much as she should be able to. Everything seemed distant and not quite real. Maybe she didn’t exist. This was just something she was watching; it wasn’t her. It wasn’t her leg, it wasn’t her blood…

The sound of her name caught her attention again. She turned towards it, just with the upper half of her body. Her helmet lay on its side several feet away, the visor shattered and the helmet dented violently. A faint blue light still glowed from it, and she heard the voice again.

“Come on, come in. Can you hear me? Where are you?”

This time, the voice was clear enough that she knew it was Shiro, and he sounded worried. She had a vague memory of him patting her shoulder before the mission, and then another of his hand glowing in the distance. Neither memory seemed to make sense to her now, though.

“Shiro.” Her voice came out hoarse, almost silent. She coughed, her chest aching, and she spat blood onto the ground. Another smaller puddle of crimson.

She was too far from her helmet to reach it, and there was no way she’d be able to move her leg. She coughed again, tried to make her voice loud enough to carry across the distance, but she couldn’t manage it. Something ached and stung in her throat, and each attempt to clear it only doubled the pain until she could barely voice a sound at all.

“Come on, come on…” Shiro sounded more than worried now, desperate and anxious to match Pidge herself, and vaguely out of breath.

Pidge was hyperventilating again, even though she knew she needed to stay calm right now. Her leg was twisted and mangled and it all hurt so, so much, and she couldn’t breathe because of it.

_No, stop. Take a breath._

She couldn’t reach her helmet, she couldn’t speak loud enough to be heard. She needed to somehow get over to it, but she would never be able to move the rubble crushing her leg.

This was hopeless, hopeless.

“Just hang in there, I’ll find you,” Shiro said, as if he knew she was there. Speaking to a phantom he couldn’t hear. “I’m looking for you right now, I’ll find you, just—if you’re listening, Pidge, Matt, either of you—just be alive. Please. Just be alive.”

Matt?

The memory flashed into her head so suddenly she lost her breath. After Shiro patted her shoulder, leaning over her to kiss Matt, and Pidge gagged immediately after while Shiro laughed and Matt mimicked her voice. Later, Shiro’s arm glowing in the distance, farther down a hallway, while Matt and Pidge snuck around a different way.

To find the control room. To manually shut off the autopilot steering this Gara warship straight into an important rebel base, after everything else in the mission had gone so, so wrong.

Pidge felt desperate and small and scared. As far as her memories could tell, they’d been together up until… until whatever had happened. But he wasn’t here. She didn’t see him, he wasn’t with her…

She looked around the room, taking in the sharp, jagged lines of the destroyed metal all around her. Walls and ceilings caved in, piles of rubble, chunks of silver and purple that looked like they’d been crumbled by a giant’s hand.

And half-hidden by a pile of broken metal, torn, bloodied fabric the same shade as Matt’s scarf.

He was here.

He wasn’t moving, and he was facing away from Pidge, so she couldn’t even see his face. Her vision blurred all over again, staring at the back of his head, blonde hair matted with red. The rubble hid him from the waist down, and his scarf enveloped most of what she could see. But not his head, or the puddle of blood under it, or the glint of metal sticking out of it, just above his ear.

“Just do that for me, okay. That’s all, just—just be alive when I find you, please.” Shiro sounded out of breath, like he was running. She hoped he was. She hoped he would find them soon, find them _now…_

“He’s hurt really bad, Shiro.” She heard herself speak, too softly for Shiro to ever hear, every sound aching in her throat, but she didn’t stop. The numb feeling was back, and this time worse. “He’s not… I can’t tell if he’s breathing, and his head… I don’t think he… I think he’s…”

She couldn’t finish. She felt sick, she felt numb, and she couldn’t say the word.

_Dead._

It was loud in her head, echoing, filling every space and she couldn’t escape it. Something broke inside of her, and she sobbed, tears spilling down her face.

“Shiro, he’s—he’s dead, he’s not—he’s not breathing, he’s not—he’s not—”

“—Both of you,” Shiro said, cutting into her words, his voice ragged. “Just hang on, I’m almost there.”

They were talking over each other, Shiro begging them both to be alive, Pidge sobbing because they weren’t. What if Shiro never found them? What if Pidge died here too, bleeding out on the floor with her helmet too far away to ever say goodbye and her leg torn to shreds and something burning her throat?

Pidge couldn’t stop crying. She couldn’t breathe right, her leg hurt, she still couldn’t remember how this had happened, her head ached, her chest hurt, and _Matt was dead for real this time no wrong birthday or secret code he was gone and he was right there in front of her and he was gone._

She was still crying when she heard footsteps and someone’s voice coming from the opposite direction as her helmet. She looked up and there was Shiro, pushing his way through the rubble, out of breath and dropping to his knees beside her.

“Pidge, Pidge, it’s okay, I’m here.” He was already looking at her leg, reaching for her hands, and Pidge knew she wasn’t going to die alone, she wasn’t going to die here on this floor after all.

“Get Matt,” Pidge sobbed, pushing at his arms. “Please, get Matt.”

She pointed across the room, trying not to look at him again, at the blood and hair and metal that she’d never be able to get out of her head as long as she lived. Shiro got back to his feet, followed the direction she’d pointed him in.

“Oh my god.” Shiro’s voice was barely more than a whisper. He pressed his hand over his mouth, kneeling down beside Matt, hiding her brother from her view. The ache in her chest grew tighter and heavier.

She couldn’t do this. Everything hurt and Matt was gone. Her breath was too short, too fast, stinging her throat and burning her eyes. Tears dripped from her nose, off of her lips and chin. Her head pounded, the world around her fuzzy and distant. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t see, everything was slipping out of focus—

“Don’t do this to me, Matt.” Shiro’s voice, cracked and numb. “Come on, come on…”

He was dead. The weight of it settled in her chest, a crushing reality, an inescapable horror. This was a war, and soldiers fought and died. Pidge knew that. She’d known that from the very beginning.

But her brother wasn’t supposed to be one of them.

A loud exhale cut into her senses. Shiro, his voice breathy and raw and more broken than Pidge had ever heard him before. He’s beside her suddenly, but she doesn’t remember hearing him move. “He’s still breathing, Pidge. He’s alive.”

She started crying harder. Disbelief at first, and then relief flooded the empty spaces in her head, filling her with too much emotion, more than she knew what to do with. The sudden reversal of the situation gave her whiplash, _her brother wasn’t dead_ , Shiro was next to her, his gloved hands bloody and his face streaked with tears.

“I’m going to get your leg free now,” Shiro told her. “The others are on their way. We’ll get you both out of here, okay? You’re going to be fine.”

“Matt,” she whispered. “He’s…”

“He’s alive,” Shiro said again. “He’s breathing. We’ll get him to the castle, and he’ll be okay.”

“Okay,” Pidge said, and she believed him. She still felt numb and not quite real as she watched him lever up the rubble trapping her leg, pushing it out of the way before letting it fall to the floor again, safely away from her leg. She looked away after that, staring at her cracked helmet instead of her leg or her brother. Everything would be okay. She could breathe. She still couldn’t remember much, but Shiro was here and the other were coming and Matt was alive.

_Matt wasn’t dead._

She heard other voices, a lot sooner than she expected, and then Lance was at her side, saying something she couldn’t make out and looping one of her arms over his shoulders. Hunk was on her other side, his arm settled against her back.

Pidge felt dizzy all over again. They helped her up, Hunk all but carrying her so she didn’t put any weight on her leg, but she felt nauseous all the same. Dark spots flecked her vision, and a white haze surrounded the outside edge of it.

“I think she’s going to pass out,” Lance said, his voice startlingly clear. Hunk was already moving to catch her when her vision blanked out completely.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is the reason for the animal death tag. take care everyone <3

> _ With shortness of breath you explained _
> 
> _ the infinite— _
> 
> _ How rare and beautiful it is _
> 
> _ to even exist; _

Pidge was four years old the first time she experienced the concept of  _ death. _

Her mom had sat her and Matt down on the couch and knelt in front of them and gently explained that their grandmother had died. Pidge asked what that was, and her mom had said that her heart had stopped working and her body wasn’t alive anymore. Pidge said, “Oh,” and then Matt, seven years her senior, started crying. Pidge didn’t know why, until her mom told her that it was very sad, and they wouldn’t be able to see their grandmother anymore and it was okay to be sad and cry about that. “Oh,” Pidge said again, and she didn’t ask any other questions.

At the funeral, she saw her dad cry harder than she had ever seen before.

She was nine when she came face-to-face with it again. The family dog, Gunther, had been sick, so Matt and their dad took him to the vet. Matt was crying when they got home, Gunther gathered up in his skinny sixteen-year-old arms. When she ran out to meet them, Gunther’s tail thumped weakly against Matt, and he licked at her face even though he barely had the energy to lift his head.

“What’s wrong with him?” she asked, and Matt cried harder while her dad walked them inside.

“Gunther is very sick,” her dad said gently. “He’s an old dog, so it would be too hard for him to have the surgery he needs to get better.”

“Can’t he get medicine to feel better?” Pidge asked.

“No,” Matt said, sniffling and not letting Gunther go. “He’s too sick, Katie.”

“The vet gave us some medicine so that he can’t feel any pain, but it’s not going to help him get better,” her dad told her.

“But if he can’t get better…” Looking at Matt’s wet face, at Gunther still nestled in her brother’s arms, Pidge felt tears well up behind her own eyes. “Is he going to die?”

Matt buried his face in Gunther’s fur. Pidge felt her mom’s hand on her shoulder, and her dad knelt down to hug her.

“Yes, sweetie,” her dad said. “We have tonight to say goodbye to Gunther, and then we have to let him go.”

_ No, no, no _ , Pidge thought. She didn’t want to say goodbye to Gunther. They’d had him for as long as she could remember, ever since she was just a baby. He’d been one of her best friends.

“Oh,” was all she said.

Mom let Gunther sleep in Matt’s bed that night. Everyone had been quiet at dinner, and Matt kept bursting into tears and running out of the room. Pidge felt close to tears the whole time too, but for some reason she couldn’t bring herself to ask if she could stay in Matt’s room as well. She petted Gunther before bed and kissed the top of his head, and he thumped his tail against the floor. Tears stung her eyes, and she ran back to her own room before they could fall.

Footsteps in the hallway woke her up in the middle of the night, and she heard Matt crying in the next room. Then she heard her dad’s voice, quiet and sad, and she got out of bed and walked into the hallway. Her mom was there, wrapping Pidge up in a hug before she knew what was going on.

Except she did know what was going on, somehow.

“Did Gunther die?” Pidge asked, sounding a lot steadier than she felt.

“Oh, sweetheart,” her mom said, her voice heavy with tears. “Yes, he did.”

Pidge stood very still, blinking hard. Her mom stayed with her, and then her dad came up behind her, and both of her parents hugged her until her mom walked away. Into Matt’s room.

“I thought we had all night to say goodbye,” Pidge said, and her voice started shaking now, cracking on the last word.

“I thought we did too,” her dad said, and he sounded just as unsteady as she did. “We were going to take him to the vet tomorrow, but I guess… I guess he wanted to go here, where he was happy and peaceful and loved.”

Pidge started crying halfway through his explanation. “I didn’t want to say goodbye. I wasn’t ready.”

“I know,” he said, holding her tightly. “I know.”

  


They buried Gunther the next day, under the big tree in the backyard that Matt and Pidge had built a tree-fort in, complete with an elevator to pull Gunther up to play with them. Matt’s eyes were red behind his glasses, and Pidge held his hand the whole time.

That night, she climbed out of her window and onto the roof. She and Matt sat there together some nights, since their windows were right next to each other, but this time she was alone. She looked up at the stars, at the low-hanging branches of the tree, of the dark patch of dirt underneath them, and she felt sadder than she ever had before. More than sad; something deeper than sadness. A simultaneously full and empty feeling, a feeling that she was incredibly small, and she’d just taken a glimpse into something bigger than she could ever grasp.

The window behind her slid open. Pidge glanced back, but instead of Matt’s window, it was her own. Her dad climbed out and took a seat next to her.

“Mind if I join you?”

Pidge scooted over to make room for him. They sat together in silence, studying the stars, Pidge still trying to make sense of the complexity of the feeling inside of her. A gentle breeze swayed the leaves on the tree and played with her hair. Crickets chirped. An owl called somewhere in the distance, a mournful call into an expansive night with no answer save its own echo.

“It’s always so peaceful at night when no one else is awake,” Pidge’s dad said. She glanced over at him, and he continued, starlight reflecting from his glasses. “The sounds and stars seem like they’re just for you. Or maybe you’re made just for them. That’s a humbling thought.”

He looked over at her. She wasn’t quite sure what to say. There was a lot to think about and she didn’t know how to talk about any of it.

“I miss Gunther,” she said finally, even though that didn’t really have to do with anything. Or maybe it did. “I wish he was still here.”

“I wish he was still here too.” He scooted closer to her. “It’s really hard to lose someone you love.”

“I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.” She knew she’d said that before, but she still felt it. She wasn’t ready to lose Gunther.

“I don’t think we ever are,” her dad said. “It’s always something we have to accept later, after the other person has left.”

“I guess,” Pidge said. Her dad talked like that a lot, in ways that she sometimes didn’t get, but tonight she felt deep enough to understand. Or maybe to not understand. Maybe that was the point; the universe was full of things to ponder and never understand. Was there a word for that? She tried to come up with one; un-understandable? Ununderstandables. She knew that wasn’t a real word, but she turned it over longer anyway. The word sounded strange in her head. “Ununderstandables.”

“Hm?”

“Ununderstandables,” Pidge said again. “There’s a lot of stuff I don’t understand about the world. Like why we have to say goodbye at all. Or like the feeling I get when I look at the stars at night and it’s all quiet and dark around me. Big stuff like that. They’re ununderstandables.”

“Ununderstandables,” her dad said, repeating the word. “I like that. There are a lot of ununderstandables in the world, aren’t there?”

“Yeah,” Pidge said softly, looking at the fresh patch of ground under their tree.

They were both quiet for a few more minutes, and then he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “You know what’s an ununderstandable?”

“What?”

“How I ended up so lucky.” He kissed the top of her head. “You’re so kind, Katie. Thoughtful, compassionate, smart, beautiful, and just incredible.”

“ _ Dad _ .” She pushed at his arm.

“No, I’m serious! In all of time and history, every moment lined up perfectly so that I could have the privilege of having you as a daughter. And that, Katie, is an ununderstandable I will always be grateful for.”

She went quiet, absorbing all of it. It was too much to understand; life in general was an ununderstandable, she thought. But she wanted to absorb it anyway, to remember this feeling and to know it, even if she never understood.

When Pidge was fourteen, the concept of death became part of her life again.

She went to their funerals, wore her black dress and held Bae-Bae’s leash, let her tears fall over their empty graves, and inside, she knew it  _ wasn’t right _ . Beyond the wrongness of half of her family suddenly being gone. Beyond the emptiness in the house, in Matt’s room, in Dad’s study. The hollow, lifeless look in her mom’s eyes. The same look in her own eyes, two days after the funeral, when she finally dragged herself out of bed and looked at herself in the mirror and saw what a mess she’d become.

Beyond it all, it was  _ wrong _ .

She didn’t buy their story. She didn’t want to; she didn’t want to accept that once again, death had come and turned her world upside down, and this time she didn’t even have her family to rely on. She couldn’t take it. Not again. So she cried into Bae-Bae’s fur, and she hugged her mother tightly, and then she hacked into the Garrison database and found all of their records on the Kerberos mission. Found the last transmission they had received from the crew. Found the results of the probe they sent out to investigate the accident. Found the unexplainable disappearance that they were trying to cover up.

Found the evidence that said her family was still alive.

Death was not a new concept to her. But this time, it didn’t have to be a finality.


End file.
